


Fucking Southern Democratic-Republicans

by MeriwetherLeww



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton - Freeform, Hamilton - Freeform, M/M, Madison - Freeform, There will be no smut, Thomas Jefferson - Freeform, all the homo, i do fluff, james madison - Freeform, jefferson - Freeform, jefferson and madison, jeffmads - Freeform, madison and jefferson, plenty of snuggles, there will be snuggles, trust me i don't do smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeriwetherLeww/pseuds/MeriwetherLeww
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Jefferson was the teacher for Government and Politics at Riverstone High School.  His star pupil, James Madison, somehow ended up in his worst, most obnoxious class.  Pitying him, Jefferson offered to let the student stay after school to get lesson plans in case he had gotten distracted by other students during the class.  He hopes it'll get the shy boy to come out of his shell. (s/o to freethoughtsonhamilton on Instagram for coming up with the title. . .)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

No class was so reckless and careless as his fifth period class of seniors. A majority of them were close to high school dropouts or where in ISS/OSS so much of the year they wouldn't be earning this high school credit, more-than-likely setting them on the path of working at McDonald's with no high school credit. Not because they were stupid or needed extra help outside of class, but because they just didn't care.

Government and Politics was a class all seniors were required to take. This was the only reason most of these students were in his class, anyways. They wouldn't be taking this class if it wasn't for Mrs. Cooper dropping them here and saying Please do your best to get them to pass. He tried his hardest. He really did. Despite what his harsh grading might suggest, he wanted all these kids to pass. He wanted to watch his students succeed, but watching this class constantly throw things at the chalkboard and launch bits of glue from their glue sticks at him as he tried to pass out homework assignments made it nearly impossible to get anything done. One student in the front of the class managed to maintain a 3%, and that was only because showing up and taking online quizzes got her grades. She never turned in her work, never showed up with anything to work with. She just showed up.

He learned to give notes by writing them up on the chalkboard instead of writing the topic and carrying out a discussion with the class, which usually gave many opportunities for students to take notes on matters they thought would be important. Anyone who cared about the class and were trying to scrape past with a passing grade may scrawl down a few notes, but there was only so much he could do for a bunch of seventeen and eighteen year olds the world had given up on. He wished someone would have helped them out sooner, so maybe those who still had the smallest scrap of hope for graduation wouldn't be panicking for credits.

And then there was James.

James Madison had been put in his fifth period class because his schedule was so tightly wound in every other place he couldn't fit into any other period. For period one he was in a class meant to improve his essay writing skills - as if they needed improvement - and periods two and three he was taking classes in speech and debate in a desperate attempt to improve his public speaking, but to no avail. He continued to sit in both classes silently, and when he was told to give his speech to the class, he'd stand up front and speak just loud enough for the first two or three rows to hear him. His speeches and debates were phenomenal, no doubt, but when it came time to deliver each one, he was, as many seniors, juniors and even some of the teachers now called him, a "shy bitch."

Fourth period he took a science class so he could get that final science credit he needed. He was with a lot of sophomores and juniors, but he didn't seem to mind. He just wanted the credit. Finally, sixth held for him yet another social studies class: economics. It wasn't a requirement for him to graduate, but since he had one extra class left, he went for something he enjoyed and felt would help him in his future career. What was it? Nobody knew. He never talked with anyone about what he had for breakfast that morning, let alone what he wanted to do for a living.

"Alright, either sit down or get out of my class," Jefferson ordered as he entered his classroom, a headache visible on the horizon. "I'm not in the mood for misconduct today. Anybody who so much as thinks about throwing a wad of glue my way is out of my class and down at Strikland's office. You can kiss this high school credit goodbye."

The students took their seats, but some of them were still whispering and throwing crumpled up notes to each other. He intersected one note and the class fell unusually silent. He could hear the air conditioning working its magic as he explained, "I can either open the note and read it aloud because I know it has some interesting stuff in it, or you can get your notebooks out and write down what I write on the board."

"Sure, teach," the one who had thrown it called, getting a few laughs from three of his idiotic friends that sat nearby.

He began opening up the crumpled paper and read, "I told Maria I liked her today, even though -"

"I'll get my notebook out, alright, alright!" the boy shouted, reaching under his desk and pulling out a notebook, his face turning bright red. The boy in front of him look behind him and mouthed You did what?

Jefferson threw him a smile. "I'm glad you've come to your senses. And another thing, Mr. Hamilton: do not refer to me as teach. I am Mr. Jefferson to you. Now," he walked up to the board and picked up a yellow piece of chalk, then began writing in perfect cursive The Election of 1860. "The Election of 1860," he read. "Can anyone tell me," he began to ask, even though he knew nobody would offer to answer, "at least one person that ran for president in 1860? Or what the significant problem the country was facing was at the time that altered how people voted?"

Nobody raised their hands to answer. He wasn't surprised, but decided to resort to his old method of calling on random students he thought either weren't paying attention or could blow those who weren't out of the water. He decided to start with one that needed put in his place: "Mr. Hamilton?" 

He looked up from his notebook, where he was drawing small doodles on the edges of his paper. A sharply dressed man who was easily distracted by girls and boys alike, and when anybody said anything that could be considered an insult to him was ready for a fight. "What?"

"Give me something you know about the election of 1860."

He leaned back in his chair and tapped his pencil against the desk, trying to come up with something. "It happened in the year 1860."

Jefferson gave an angry sigh. "Well, you aren't wrong, but thank you for the blatantly obvious answer." He scanned the room for a student he felt would have at least something intelligent to say about the election. "Mr. Madison?"

The boy looked up abruptly from his book; upon closer inspection, Jefferson realized it was a book on Abraham Lincoln. Perfect. "Election of 1860. Give me something about it. Anything."

"Uh. . ." He was obviously uncomfortable, but he needed to learn to speak up more. He'd be going to college next year, more than likely on a variety of scholarships, and he needed to learn to ask questions and give speeches, answer questions and participate in discussions. "Abraham Lincoln, John Bell, John C. Breckinridge, and Stephen Douglas all ran against each other. Lincoln won every state in the North."

"Yes!" he exclaimed, writing down the names on the board. "And why was this election so important to the country?"

"The, uh. . . This would decide if the Union would still stand as one."

"Yes! Exactly! Very nice job, Mr. Madison." He wrote down Will the Union stand? beneath the candidates and their parties. "The country had been divided on the issue of slavery since the Constitution was first being drafted. Now it was the one thing separating the North and South more than ever before. Not only this, but the North had an industrialized economy, so it was continuing to improve. The South was mainly agricultural, so their economy remained on the same steady path, making almost no advances for decades." He turned around and wrote North - Industrialized, South - Agricultural. "You cannot have an economy based solely on agriculture. It's too dangerous, has too many risks. Weather could easily ruin an economy in a day if they only focus on agriculture."

He continued talking and writing notes, even when the class got rowdy or quit focusing. At this point, he decided, it was their problem if they didn't want to listen. But when he turned around the face the class, he could always bet on seeing James Madison in the back corner, taking notes, listening to Jefferson, and reading his book as he waited for the teacher to finish writing a sentence on the board. This poor kid didn't belong in a group of chaotic kids with almost no chance of graduating. As the bell rang, he didn't even bother to mention notes would be continued the next day. They didn't care, and probably never would. 

He had ten minutes for passing period, which meant ten minutes to prepare for the next class. He erased the chalkboard as the students all clamored out of the room, pushing and shoving and cursing at each other. When he turned around he saw James timidly holding his books, looking as if he was trying to start a conversation with the teacher. Instantly his look turned tender and gentle, doing his best to not scare the boy off with angry glares and an irritated attitude he was always left with from his fifth period class. "Is everything alright, Mr. Madison?"

"Fine, sir," he answered. "It's just. . . is there any possibility I'd be able to switch classes? I can't focus in this class and. . . This is really important to me, and I need the credits."

"You know there's nothing we can do. You have a very tight-knit schedule, I know you understand that. I'm sorry, I'd switch you if I could. I understand you not wanting to be in this class." He set the eraser in his hand down and leaned against the metal for holding the chalk. "Tellya what: if you want, you can stay after school whenever you feel like you need to and I can go over the lesson with you again. Just you and me. We can go over any questions you have and I can make sure your notes have accurate information."

"That'd be nice, sir, but you see, I ride the bus home after school every day. My mother isn't usually home until eight, and my father often gets home later than that. I wouldn't have any way to get home."

"You have no driver's license?"

"I do, sir, just no car to put it to good use."

Jefferson leaned his head back and sighed, tapping his foot against the tiled ground. "How's about I drive you home? Where do you live?"

"Uh. . . Just down the road from Green Hill Elementary."

"I pass that on my way home daily. If you're comfortable with it, I could definitely take you home if you ever want to stay after school."

"That sounds great, sir. Do you, uh. . . Do you mind if I stay tonight?"

Jefferson smiled and shook his head. "Not at all. I'd be happy if you did; I know you're one of the only students I have fifth period that actually cares about passing this class. I'll see you after sixth period, alright?"

"Yes, sir." 

James started heading out of the room, but stopped when Jefferson called, "Oh, before you go, Mr. Madison, I'd just like to know what that book is you're reading."

"Um. . . Killing Lincoln by Bill O'Reilly."

"Is it good?"

"Phenomenal."

"Great. I look forward to reading it. I'll see you this afternoon, Mr. Madison."

"Afternoon, Mr. Jefferson."

Jefferson went and sat in his swivel chair, spinning himself around at his desk. The boy seemed to open up in just those few minutes. Perhaps he could get him to open up a bit more with some one-on-one time. Nothing hurt more than watching a kid extremely talented with words get beat out by a mediocre kid who can present it like a champion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having trouble coming up with something for this chapter. I hope for future chapters to be better and more eventful if you just keep hanging on!!

"Mr. Jefferson, sir?"

Jefferson looked over from the chalkboard where still half the notes written down from discussion that day stood and saw James standing timidly in the doorway, his book bag slung lazily over one shoulder and politics textbook held tightly against his chest. "Mr. Madison," he offered in greeting, turning back to the chalkboard and continuing to erase the notes taken so he would have room to write down anything he felt might be necessary in this after school session. "Take a seat anywhere, none of them are taken. Nobody else will be showing up; it's just you and me."

Despite the invitation to take any seat, he chose to sit at his usual desk in the back corner of the classroom. "Would you mind if I took a look at your notes to see what needs filled in?" James nodded quickly, pulling his notes out of his binder and handing them to the teacher, still staring at his textbook.

As Jefferson skimmed through the notes, he started shaking his head and laughing. "Sir?"

"Mr. Madison, these notes are extraordinary. I don't see any reason for us to go back over the lesson - you've hit every nail on the head, and then some. I didn't even discuss some of this in class today."

"S-Still, since I'm here, would it be too much to go over? Just as review?" It didn't make any sense to send the kid off if he wanted more information; he wasn't going to stop him from wanting to learn. He wished he had more students like this.

"Not at all," he agreed, leaning against the board. "What kind of specific things are you looking for? What the candidates stood for, why the election was so important, why Lincoln won, what are you looking for?"

A smile graced across the student's face as he responded, "I want to learn as much as time allows."

"How long can you stay?" Jefferson responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Uh. . . 7:30, about."

He looked to the clock and read 3:57. "We have time," Jefferson nodded, beginning to reteach his lesson for the seventh time that day. "The Election of 1860. Candidates Abraham Lincoln, John Bell, John C. Breckinridge, Stephen Douglas."

He continued on teaching, but stopped suddenly when James jumped out of his seat about an hour in when they were getting to battle strategies each side planned on using in the Civil War, exclaiming something about the Navy. “Sir, the South had no navy, correct?”

“Correct.”

“And a weak government?”

“Jefferson Davis was an inexperienced political leader.”

“So the North would do best if they attacked with naval forces.”

“And why is that?”

“The South is primarily made of coastal states, yet they have no navy. That puts the North at a great advantage.”

Sure, this should all be review from their eighth grade year, but that was nearly five years ago, and none of his other students could remember things from their sophomore year, let alone eighth. “Exactly! But what did the South have that lacked in the North?”

“Motivation. Military experience. Familiarity with the land.”

Much to Jefferson’s surprise, it didn’t take much to get him to open up. He could find what got him excited and what made his eyes light up with passion – politics and debate. If he could keep this going, maybe this kid could spark something in everyone else. . .

 

. . .

 

By the time the Jefferson got through everything with breaks for Madison's questions, it was nearing on 7:15. "I apologize for keeping you so late, Mr. Madison. I can be taking you home now if you have no further questions -"

"Thomas."

_Shit._

Jefferson spun around with a smile, nodding awkwardly to the principal.  "Sir?"

"Have I interrupted something?"

“No, no. We were just packing up. Unless Mr. Madison has any further questions?” The student shook his head, taking his books and shoving them into his bag.

“Then might I speak with you?”

"Yes, right.” He turned to face James, “I'll take you home after this, alright?"  The student nodded as Jefferson exited the room directly behind Washington.  "What is it, sir?"

"Thomas, you know I have trouble hiring people so fresh out of college into our school, but we were low on staff. Four teachers move to different schools and two retired; we needed anyone with the college credits.  You understand this."

"Yes, of course."

"Well, I was hoping you'd come through.  You're a great kid, Thomas, and most of your classes are thriving.  We could never get our students so into politics before you came along.”

“So what’s the problem?”

By the looks of it, Washington didn’t want to answer the question. “. . . Your fifth period is doing so _horribly_ your teaching grade average is dropping significantly.  Just like when you were in class, you need a B in this school to continue teaching here.  Without your fifth period, you're at an A - none of our other first year teachers are even close.  But incorporating your fifth period, it drops you to a C."

"Sir, there's only so much I can do for a class that the world gave up on in middle school -"

"I know, Thomas, but you have to figure out something.  It's great you have the other five classes figured out - I don't know what it is, but you get them involved and interested - but that does nothing for this class.  They need to pass or you're out."

Jefferson froze in shock.  Just a few months into his first job (and merely months after graduation) and he was already being told he may be fired due to _one_ class not giving two shits whether they failed or passed.  "S-Sir, you can't let my whole future lay in the hands of a class who doesn't care if they graduate or not!"

"Whether I agree with it or not is not the matter at hand," he sighed.  "The fact of the matter is the grade your students have is very important.  Figure it out or _you're_ out.  Understand?"

"But, sir -"

"Figure it out, Thomas.  I don't want to see you lose your first job because your fifth period class is full of jackasses.  Is there at least _one_ kid in there that knows what he's doing?"

Jefferson thought back to James, sitting quietly and packing up his things in the classroom.  "Oh, definitely."

"Use him to inspire the other students if you can."  As he was walking off he repeated, "Figure it out."

Once he was out of earshot, Jefferson groaned, " _Shit_!" just as James exited the classroom.  "You didn't hear that," he ordered, retreating back to his classroom and grabbing his keys and bag.

"Hear what?"

"Exactly."  He gave him a quick pat on the shoulder and began heading towards the door, attempting to make light conversation, "So, you talk to any students at school, Mr. Madison?"

"Uh. . ." He looked uncomfortable and stared at the ground the whole way out of the building. “No, not really,” he answered in a quiet mutter. “Just you.”

The kid was so hard to talk to; he couldn’t start any of his own conversations, but then again teachers were supposed to be the one initiating conversation. He didn’t have much experience with conversation starters himself, but was going to have to learn if this was to become a common thing with his students. As he unlocked the doors to his car, he thought back to a few months ago when he was a student at College of William and Mary, not being able to start a conversation with one person, but he was able to argue any point with anyone. He didn’t realize how important conversation starting would be as a high school teacher.

Phasing back into conversation, he continued, “Just me, huh? Anybody try talking to you?”

“Nobody I’m interested in talking to, sir.”

“What disinterests you about them?”

“He only talks to me when he’s telling me what I’m doing wrong –“

“So it’s one specific individual is what I’m hearing.” James looked away sheepishly as if not wanting to embellish any further. “Who is it? Do they give you problems often?”

“Nothing I can’t take.”

He didn’t understand how anyone could be rude to this kid; he never talked, never said anything that could possibly offend anyone. He shook his head gently as he stuck the keys in the ignition and started up the car. It beeped irritably as it alerted him that he wasn’t buckled, as if he didn’t get that before. He strapped himself in and leaned back, taking in a deep breath.

“Sir?”

Jefferson jumped, not expecting the quiet student to the right of him to start any sort of conversation. “Yes?”

“Is it true what Mr. Washington said?”

He wanted to act ignorant to the whole affair, act as if he wasn’t in deep shit, but he couldn’t. What was the point in it? He might as well kiss his first job goodbye; that would look great on his record, losing a job after having it for only a year. “Yes, it’s true.”

“And it’s just your fifth period?”

“Just fifth period.” He tapped the steering wheel anxiously as he drove, trying to act as if it didn’t bother him, though he was never much of an actor. “It’s no big deal, I’m sure I’ll figure something out. They just need something to inspire them, that’s all.”

James nodded curtly, brow furrowed as if a plan were formulating in his head. “Don’t worry too much about it, Mr. Madison,” Jefferson ordered. “I can figure something out. Don’t trouble yourself with my problems. You’re graduating high school in a few months, you have much more important things to be worrying about. Other classes and scholarship applications and whatnot.”

“But, sir –“

“Don’t worry about it Mr. Madison,” he repeated, stronger this time. “It is my problem. Don’t trouble yourself with petty problems like mine when you have very important things going on in your own life.”

There was silence for a few more minutes. The car was quickly approaching on James’s house when Thomas attempted to lighten the mood, “Have any pets at home?”

“I have a parrot,” he responded. “My parents got a sheep, though I’m not really sure why.”

“A sheep?” Jefferson laughed lightly. “I didn’t know that was allowed in city grounds.”

“It isn’t,” he admitted. “Nobody’s said anything because he doesn’t do much.” The car was filled with more silence until Madison asked, “What about you, sir? Any pets?”

“Just a mockingbird,” he answered as the car pulled onto the street James said held his house. “Which one is it?”

“This one,” he responded, pointing to a greyish-blue house on the corner. “The one on the corner.”

He pulled to a stop on the side of the road in front of the house; it was quaint and small, but nicely kept with a large front yard scattered with decorations in what appeared to be strategic chaos. The house itself appeared to be made of stone from the front, with a narrow cobblestone walkway leading from the road to the house. “Feel free to stay afterschool anytime,” Jefferson invited, pushing the car into park. “I’ll be happy to help you with anything you need, and I can always take you home afterwards.”

“Alright. Thank you, sir.”

“Anytime.”


End file.
